


the bruises and the blood (and the sweat and the tears)

by kashxy



Series: will i ever stop writing angst? (no) [4]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming
Genre: It’s graphic please stay safe, Protective Tony Stark, Sexual Assault, Skip Wescott is a piece of shit, You are loved and needed, graphic depictions of rape, rape scene, rape/non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 01:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashxy/pseuds/kashxy
Summary: nefariousadjwicked in the extreme, abominable, iniquitous; detestably vile.





	the bruises and the blood (and the sweat and the tears)

**Author's Note:**

> this is GRAPHIC. G-R-A-P-H-I-C. PLEASE, PLEASE do not read if you are to be triggered or affected in any way by the contents of this story. this story is purely fictional, and i do not condone or glamourise rape in any way possible. if you or anyone you know has been affected by any of the contents of this story, please follow the link below, which will take you to rape helplines. you are strong, and you are loved.  
> https://www.itv.com/thismorning/rape-helplines

he loses his movement first.

tied down, bound against his own body, he can feel his bones crunching together when he squirms. his limbs are bent in places he doesn’t even feel possible,  his body still even as it wracks with sobs and shakes. the classical music of mr stark's professional 'party’ rings in his ears, and he attempts to focus on that rather than the boy on top of him.

 

" _you'll be great friends_ ," mr stark had insisted, not noticing peter's silent pleas of anguish when his idol presented in front of him his childhood tormenter. the boy peter had spent his whole life hiding from, being stuffed into lockers and down toilets just because skip  _didn't like him._ mr stark hadn't listened.

_he never does_ , peter thought. if he had just _listened_ to him, he wouldn't be here now, tears streaming out of his sore eyes, barely able to see in front of him. if mr stark had noticed the tears in his eyes when skip sat close to him and told him not to move or he’d snap his neck, he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

hindsight was an incredible thing and, unfortunately, peter hadn’t listened when his spider senses told him to run. 

_no_. _this isn’t mr stark’s fault. this is **your** fault._

next, he loses the ability to scream. he’s not sure he would have planned on continuing to yell anyway - after the first time, and skip had punched him so hard he felt vomit in his throat, he didn't think he'd ever want to scream again.

skip leans forward and presses the gag into his mouth, spewing compliments that sound like blood through his teeth at peter. the smaller boy sits there, hair ruffled and slick to his forehead with sweat, and takes a shallow breath.

drool leaks out of his mouth and down his chin, and he glares through tears when skip smiles at him. the older boy presses his fingertips through the gag and pulls peter’s lips taut on either side. it’s humiliating and degrading, and peter flinches back when skip lets his face go with a none too gentle slap to his cheek.

his throat, raw from sobbing through the material, had his reflexes choking and gagging as skip forced his head down into the mattress. the air expelled from his lungs so suddenly, peter feels himself pressed almost in half when skip forces his spine to bend and covers his face with a pillow. peter shallowly screams and doesn’t forget the laugh that he hears rumble from above him. the pressure is there, and then it’s gone, like he’d imagined it all along. 

he can feel skip’s eyes trailing his body, accompanied only by his fingertips, and the shivers travelling through peter’s body brought bile to his lips.

he can vaguely hear adults outside the bedroom, and he lets out a few broken, pathetic shrieks, though they barely reach as loud as a whisper. skip laughs from above him, evil and cold; peter’s sure the man’s getting off on the fact that the smaller boy was completely and utterly _terrified,_ and it makes him sick. 

lastly, he loses his sight.

as much as skip assures him the fear in his eyes is ‘ _absolutely mouth watering_ ’, apparently it’s even hotter to hear peter's petrified whimpers, and to see his writhing body, unable to see where the older boy was, or what he was doing to him. peter’s not one to think so violently, but he assured his consciousness that if skip were to be brutally murdered in front of him, he wouldn’t call an ambulance. 

”you’re so good.” he whispers, and the teenager shivers.

he can feel spit leaking out of his mouth from behind the gag, soaking the mattress underneath his head as skip runs his hands down peter’s body like he owns it. he’s taking his time, like he knows nobody would come into the room, and he was savouring it. 

peter’s body tenses, tears leaking from his eyes like a stream as the older boys’ hands reach his pants and begin pulling them off, slowly. it’s agonising and humiliating, and peter feels his body pulling itself up the bed by the bloody tips of his fingernails. skip knows how much he’s hurt peter and _he_ _gets_   _off_ _on_ _it_.

it makes peter sick to his stomach, able to vaguely ignore the fact that teasing fingers were pressing into his inside thigh by distracting his thoughts to how ill he feels.

“so good, you’re so gorgeous.” skip  murmurs, relishing in peter’s naked body. the younger boy squirms and cries, frantically pulling at the restraints around his wrists, tying his skin to itself. 

the small boy brokenly whispers out for safety, speaks around the gag and through the tears. skip pieces together the rough speech of “m’s-er-st’k.” and laughs tauntingly. 

“you pretend i’m stark? does that get you off, pete?” 

peter only sobs in response, harshly shaking his head. he doesn’t want mr stark in anyway other than to _save_ him - he’s in  _agony_. 

he doesn’t think he’s awake for the moment skip grows tired of teasing him and finally pushes in, rough and unforgiving. he felt like he’d passed out, at least dissociated, harshly brought back to reality when skip grabs his hair and _pulls_ , harsh and heavy. silent sobs escape peter’s mouth as the sick man above him moans in peter’s ear, spluttering out disgusting phrases of how peter was good and peter was gorgeous and peter was _oh so fucking good_. 

it makes him sick. actually, physically sick and by the time skip pulls out and finishes over his bruised body, vomit is stained his chest, a horrifying mix with the semen and blood. he can hear skip’s phone clicking with the sound of a camera shutter, and he _sobs_ , babbling out desperate pleas in an attempt to get the older man to stop. 

peter had never been one to idealise suicide, but he’s sure he’s never wished more to die than at that moment - if a murderer were to come and hold him at gunpoint, he would beg for them to take his life, and make it as slow as possible. 

the hysterics become worse when skip logs into peter’s unlocked phone and sends the pictures to mr stark. the older man graphically describes what he’s doing, why he’s doing it, and how  _hot_ peter looked right now. not even a minute later, there’s a roar of fury, and the music stops. peter blinks. 

a harsh kiss is pressed against peter’s forehead, and it burns into his skin. peter fights the urge to throw up again as skip pats him, almost sadly, before hastily moving away from peter. 

from behind the blindfold, he can’t be sure where skip has gone, but the lack of door movement and sudden breeze has peter thinning he’d climbed out of the window. heart beating rapidly, he squirms and shouts, every action weaker than the last. he tries to fight off the instinct to dissociate, and throws himself back against the headboard in an attempt to bring himself back.

the door slams open, and peter recoils harshly, hot tears streaming out of his eyes. his body weakly curls in on itself, peter’s own vomit soaking his upper body, blood soaking the lower. he hears tony’s sharp gasp, only forcing harsher cries out of him. 

he expects a slap, or a weight, or something unwanted, but instead, he feels a warm, wet cloth against his body, softly ridding him of the external stains. tony spoke soothingly, not at all like how skip had, but he muttered things like how brave peter was and how good he was being and maybe peter sobbed harder at that, but it wasn’t like tony would have noticed anyway. 

once his chest is no longer covered in fluids, tony gently lifts him into a sitting position, breaking the binds around his wrists and ankles. he slowly removes the gag from peter’s mouth, gently helping him to close his jaw. 

a blanket is wrapped around peter’s body before tony finally removes the blindfold, letting peter adjust to the light around him. he’d kept it on as long as possible, not wanting peter to see himself in such a disturbing state, or cause the boy anymore sensory overload than had been done.

tears well in peter’s eyes again and he lets a broken sob escape his throat. tony makes a move to embrace him and peter flinches back so violently, tony gasps and looks like he may cry. 

“c’mon, kid.” tony’s soft, gentle, but his tone holds an angry undertone, and peter winces even as he lets his mentor embrace him. his hands begin to slowly move, though they held on a little too tightly to peter’s body.

he makes sure the small boy knew where he was going and what he was doing, and he gently cleans peter’s back and stomach. he speaks soothingly, letting peter sob into his neck. 

almost immediately after tony picks peter up and holds him protectively against his chest, the young boy was asleep. he was _exhausted_ , completely and utterly shattered, both mentally and physically.

tony didn’t mind, and instead cast a glance back to the bed where peter had just lay, vomit and blood standing out against the white sheets. an angry growl rises in his throat and he turns to the window, absolutely blind with rage. his hands hold a little tighter onto peter’s frail body, as if terrified the rapist would come back and take him from him again if his grip even slightly faltered, and he walks over to the window to ensure there’s nobody still there. 

tony looks down at the small boy in his arms, the tear stains, red marks, angry gashes - he has to stop before he throws up on the kid.

tony shakes his head, remembering where he’d been while this had been happening, and felt sick. not even ten feet above his head, peter was being assaulted and tormented, all while tony was none the wiser. peter was _fifteen_ , a fucking _child_ , and he’d been left alone and this had happened? tony could have driven off a bridge and not given it a second thought just to take back that one stupid mistake. 

he looks back at the window once more, and calls FRIDAY for a suit. 

“i’m sorry, kid.” he mumbles, and brushed back the child’s sweaty curls, watching the way his fingers have crept into his mouth and he’s gently sucking on them. 

“i’m sorry.” 

**Author's Note:**

> if you need to talk, my tumblr is @kashxy, and i am happy to be there for you in you need it. this was very difficult to write and was included in my angst series from my prompt list.


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